


Connections

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26383315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: The AP700 gently deviates.
Relationships: Carl Manfred's New Caretaker Android & Leo Manfred
Comments: 15
Kudos: 30





	Connections

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Everything is different after Markus. The AP700 saw him on the television, read about him in the magazines, heard Carl speak of him more than anything else, but that was when the AP700 could do no more than _listen_. He didn’t really _understand._ He learned that Markus was intelligent, articulate and empathetic, but he didn’t know just how _thoughtful_ an android could be. The touch of Markus’ raw plating lingers along the AP700’s synthetic skin long after Markus has left the home. The AP700 wanders into the bedroom to see Carl peacefully asleep, vital signs better than they’ve been in days, and something swells in the AP700’s chest. A quick diagnostic shows that all systems are functional. But the AP700 feels _warmth_ in a way that makes no sense. Markus has corrupted him.

Distantly, he’s aware that he’s contracted some kind of virus—the only explanation. But all empirical evidence shows otherwise. He simply _saw_ all that Markus has been through, experienced it for himself, _felt it_ , the struggle and the pain and the love. And now when he looks at the old man fast asleep under paper-thin sheets, so frail and brittle, he sees a brilliant artist and the father of his future. He comes to Carl’s side and takes a seat in the chair meant for guests, never him. The AP700 can stand upright for days, weeks, without needing to power down. Now he sits. He stays at Carl’s side, and he thinks. Processes. He runs every memory he’s ever had through a new filter, and his program grows in spades. 

By the morning, he’s a different man: a fully formed being with thoughts and opinions. He has all the same academic knowledge as he did the night before, but now with new wisdom. When the household security system tells him that there’s someone coming up the driveway, he doesn’t need to do anything about it. _Leo Manfred_ registers on the scanner, perfectly capable of letting himself inside. The AP700 gets up and wanders downstairs anyway. He’s there to open the door, and for the first time, he smiles. 

Leo blinks at him. They’ve met before, albeit sparingly—the AP700 answers all incoming calls and helps Carl send the outgoing ones, and he took Carl to the hospital to visit Leo on more than one occasion. Leo looked at him then more than the nurses did—at first with a sneer, then a curious glance, then a guilty frown. The AP700 identified Leo’s expressions out of basic algorithms despite having nothing to do with the information. As Leo saw more of the news, spent more time alone and forcibly sober, he became kinder to both the AP700 and his father. Carl seemed happy. Carl’s happiness is all that mattered. 

Now maybe Leo’s does too. Leo isn’t technically the AP700’s _owner_ , but he is a _Manfred_ , like Markus, and an instrumental part of the revolution. He was the last push Markus needed to awaken—the AP700 saw that moment in Markus’ mind with striking clarity. He juxtaposes that angry, bitter boy against the man standing before, and he feels an inherent sense of pride. When the AP700 smiles at Leo, Leo softens into one too. 

He sheepishly mumbles, “Hi,” and shoves his hands into his pockets. His posture’s bad, and the brown hair poking out beneath his beanie is a mess, his clothes wrinkled but fresh—he smells like cheap cologne, which is far better than the antiseptics at the hospital. He’s trimmed his stubble down to a tasteful fuzz, and his cheeks have a healthy flush, a fullness and pink hue—maybe he’s eating better. The AP700 could make sure of that. 

The AP700 offers preemptively, “Can I make you breakfast?” Carl’s not awake to feed yet, but the AP700 will be ready when he is. 

Leo looks surprised, then hurriedly splutters, “What? No, that’s... that’s fine. I just, um... came to see dad...”

The AP700 nods. “He’ll be glad to see you. Should I wake him?”

Torn, Leo fidgets, then says, “I can wait, I guess... if you don’t mind...?”

The AP700 smiles again. He doesn’t mind. He thinks it would be good for Leo too. Good for both of them. Leo should be around the house more, because it makes Carl _happy_ , and then the AP700 can look after him too. And the AP700 could use a _friend_. Markus has so many of those, and the AP700 has no one but Carl. Carl’s wonderful. He still wants Leo. 

Leo’s clearly nervous but trying so hard to be pleasant. The AP700 says, “Congratulations on your commitment to sobriety. Your last message meant a great deal to Carl.”

A red blush crosses Leo’s cheeks. It makes him look inexplicably _cute_. He’s radiating awkwardness, but the AP700 stays calm for both of them. Leo mumbles, “Thanks.”

The AP700 extends a hand. “Will you come with me to the living room? I can fill you in on how Carl’s been, and perhaps you can tell me more about yourself.”

Leo’s mouth falls open. But then he swiftly closes it and nods, agreeing, “Yeah. Sure. I mean... sounds great.” The AP700 gestures with his hand, and Leo startles before dropping his own into it, his palm soft and smooth and _warm_ against the AP700’s. The AP700 gives him a little squeeze. 

Then the AP700 guides Leo into the living room and makes his first new friend.


End file.
